


this house don't feel like home

by jetplane



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Character Death, Death, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetplane/pseuds/jetplane
Summary: Gideon's letter to Spencer profiled as a suicide note. Maybe it was.prompt: hanging (day 1)
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon & Spencer Reid
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946050
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	this house don't feel like home

**Author's Note:**

> See endnote for content warnings
> 
>  _Mama, come here  
>  approach, appear  
> Daddy, I'm alone  
> 'cause this house don't feel like home  
> if you love me, don't let go_  
> -"Unsteady" by X Ambassadors

Spencer climbed out of his car, leaving his headlights on to illuminate the path to the front door. He peered through the window, unable to make out anything in the dark. Hesitantly, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Gideon?”

He tried to open the door and found that it was unlocked. “Gideon?” he called again, pulling out a flashlight from his bag as he stepped inside.

The light landed on Gideon’s bookcase. Empty. Warily, Reid shined the beam into the kitchen space, which was also completely bare. Noticing a lamp by his side, Spencer lowered his flashlight and turned the knob. It clicked, and the bulb poured light into the room.

It was only then that he was able to see what was right in front of him.

Gideon.

Reid’s lips parted in horror, and the handheld flashlight fell to the ground with a loud crack. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again.

No change.

Somehow, Reid managed to gather the presence of mind to retrieve his phone from his pocket. His fingers clumsily landed on the speed dial. They shook as he pressed the button.

It rang once. “Hotchner,” said the voice on the other end.

Reid opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Hello?” Aaron asked. He paused expectantly. “Reid?”

Spencer tried to speak again but no words came out.

“Reid, talk to me.” The worry in Hotch’s voice managed to bring Reid back into focus.

“I’m at Gideon’s - Gideon’s cabin.” The words came out uneven, like his mouth couldn’t quite remember how to form sounds. “I didn’t - I didn’t know what else to do.”

Hotch felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Do you need me there?”

“Yes,” Reid breathed. “Please.”

-

Hotch pulled up in the driveway and jumped out of his car. He hurried to the open door, which rocked slightly with the cool night breeze. Inside, Hotch could see a single light illuminate the interior of the cabin. “Spencer?”

Silence. Resting one hand cautiously on the holster on his belt, Hotch stepped inside. And that’s when he saw Gideon.

Aaron had thought he was ready. He’d braced himself, from the moment he’d first heard Reid’s voice over the phone, for what he might find. But nothing in his life could have prepared him to see his friend and mentor’s lifeless body hanging from the ceiling.

He knew he was dead. Even in the dim light, Hotch could see Gideon’s mottled skin, his discolored face, and the blood that had pooled around his neck. He knew these signs too well. Gideon was gone and had probably been for at least a couple of days.

With a tightening throat, Aaron swallowed down a tidal wave of emotions. He had to find Reid.

Forcing shaky breaths in and out of his lungs, Hotch took a couple of steps into the room and then stumbled. When he looked down to see what he had tripped on, he found a small flashlight. He shined it around, taking in the empty space. Then he shone it into the kitchen and sharply drew in a breath.

Huddled against a cabinet was Reid, knees drawn close to his chest as he stared blankly at the floor. “Hey,” Hotch said softly. “Spencer.”

The young agent looked up. “You came.” His voice had an almost childlike quality to it, a stark contrast from his face which had gained ten years in the poor lighting.

He’d never consider doing anything else. “Of course.”

“Thank you for coming,” Reid whispered. “I-“ The doctor’s face crumpled as a small choking noise escaped his lips.

Hotch just watched for a moment. He had no idea what his coworker was feeling right now, much less how to fix it. So he knelt by Reid’s side. When the younger doctor didn’t react to his presence, he tentatively reached out and placed his hand on Spencer’s back.

They stayed on the floor for a while, until Spencer's crying finally stopped and Aaron figured it was time to get Reid out of the cold, dark cabin. He touched Reid’s shoulder gently. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.” The unit chief extended a hand and helped Reid to his feet. He accepted it gratefully.

What Spencer did next surprised both of them. As he stood, he launched himself into Hotch’s arms with such force that the stronger man almost fell. Aaron struggled to support his weight as the doctor clung to him. It was uncomfortable and a little difficult for him, but Hotch didn’t dare let go. Spencer’s world had capsized, and Hotch was the only life preserver in the stormy sea. His agent would not drown.

When Reid finally released, Hotch let himself linger for a moment. He gently touched Spencer’s back, then gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to go?”

Reid swiped his cheek with the back of his hand, then looked to Hotch with wide, watery eyes. “Do you know what shemira is?”

The word sounded vaguely familiar, but Aaron couldn’t place it. He shook his head. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“It’s a Jewish death ritual. In Hebrew, shemira means ‘watching’ or ‘guarding’.” Spencer blinked rapidly. “Someone is supposed to guard the body of a person from the time they die until they’re buried.” His eyes darted to Gideon’s body. It was too dark to see anything, but Hotch moved to block his view just in case. “How - how long do you think it’s been?” he asked weakly.

Hotch sighed. “Maybe three days,” he admitted.

Reid nodded. “I should have come three days ago,” he muttered to himself. His shoulders slumped. “But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Nothing does.”

It was clear that Spencer was about to break down again. “Hey,” Hotch interjected softly as he saw his lip quiver. “You still matter. What we do matters.” A tear rolled down Reid’s cheek. “What we do matters,” Hotch repeated. “We matter.”

As he held the young man’s body in an embrace once again, he wondered how long it would be before he could believe that again.

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: major character death, suicide, slightly graphic description of a corpse  
>    
> _Mother, I know  
>  that you're tired of being alone  
> Dad, I know you're trying  
> to fight when you feel like flying  
> if you love me, don't let go_
> 
> Thank you for reading! This is my first time participating in Whumptober and I hope to be able to produce some good content this month, so please let me know if you have any feedback or suggestions (you can leave them in the comments or send them to my Tumblr, @jet-plane). I may write a follow-up to this story later (most likely for the "abandoned" prompt); please tell me if you'd be interested in that!


End file.
